Something Else to Enjoy Perspectives of a Grinch
by kalinda001
Summary: Inspired by all the seasonal stories that depict Avon as a scrooge or grinch-like character. A different way of looking at the same theme.


Avon gritted his teeth at all the frivolities. He was just counting the Federation standard minutes before his obligatory attendance in Blake's celebration would end. It was Blake's attempt to bring back various ancient customs that were meant to celebrate peace and hope for all of humanity.

Avon considered it highly ironic considering how much of humanity Blake was about to kill in order to give them that hope. He doubted if those who were about to die would appreciate that irony. Or that they would find much hope to be celebrating about. Or that they would enjoy Blake's definition of peace for them if it included their deaths.

Avon was here under duress and he did not hide how non-festive he was feeling.

Blake had looked at him as if he was doing something wrong by not wanting to participate and then had raised his voice sharply at him the way he always did when their wills clashed. Avon had sullenly relented rather than having to face more unpleasantness. It was often easier to give in to Blake. The man could make his life even more intolerable on the ship than it already was. Things were only pleasant on the ship for those who did exactly as Blake wanted. And apparently it also included Blake-mandated expressions of happiness and enjoyment.

At some point someone had brought out silly head gear for everyone to wear. Blake had insisted that Avon get into the spirit of things because he was spoiling it for everyone else. He used that warm and pleasant, almost hypnotic voice he had and he assumed Avon's compliance by handing the hat to him, accompanied with a friendly smile. Avon was very familiar with these devious tactics from Blake; the ones that barely disguised the steel that would be applied if Avon did not do what Blake wanted. The others had all stared at him as if he was the Grinch that stole the festivities. Avon resentfully put on the silly hat but the moment Blake's back was turned he took it off and threw it behind the couch.

For the rest of the time, Avon's face was blank and inexpressive as the others started singing songs and shared the different customs of celebration they had grown up with. It wasn't that he was disapproving. He wasn't even paying attention. His mind was busy tackling an enjoyable problem he had been working on when he had been dragged to this forced program of "happiness and enjoyment" and "peace and goodwill", all for his own good, of course.

Vila sat down next to Avon and handed him a glass of something green. He was obviously drunk. "Good 'ol Avon. If there was a contest, you would out-scrooge scrooge. Cheers!" He clinked his glass against Avon's and drained the rest of his. Vila got up to get himself a refill before even noticing if Avon had drunk his. Avon frowned and stared at the green liquid and then he took a sip. It wasn't bad. He drank the rest and looked for a place to put it down. An unwelcome hand took it from him. Avon looked up with an unpleasant scowl. It was Blake.

"You see, Avon, that wasn't too bad, was it?"

Avon had a barely disguised sneer on his lips, "For whom? I have something to do." He fixed Blake with a cold glare, one that said that if Blake wanted to continue to force him to be here then there would be a confrontation. Blake would have to weigh the impact of that on the festive atmosphere.

"Alright, Avon." Blake sounded disappointed. "I won't force you."

Avon asked snidely, "Isn't it already too late to say _that_?" He got up stiffly and made his way to the exit, choosing a path that would avoid the rest of the people who actually enjoyed this activity. Out in the merciful silence of the corridor, he heard soft footsteps rush up behind him. He already knew who it was before he turned around. "Cally." Avon turned to face her.

Cally touched her hand to his arm. "Blake meant well."

Avon couldn't keep the sneer from appearing on his lips again. "He always _means_ well. He seems to think it gives him the right to define what is right for everyone else."

"The others think you're too negative. You were spoiling the party."

"Do you really think I care what they think of me?"

"Why are you opposed to having fun? Don't you do anything unless it serves a practical purpose?"

Avon stared at her as if she had said something incomprehensible. He was surprised at her. If this was Blake, Vila or even Gan, he would have said something snarky in response to such an ignorant assumption. It was something he would expect from one of them, but not Cally. As this was Cally, he took the time to explain. For some reason he wanted her to understand. "I have no opposition to other people doing what they find enjoyable. I will not make any comments on something that is strictly a matter of personal choice of entertainment. As long as it has no impact on the safety of this ship. They can cover every inch of the _Liberator_ in whatever pieces of meaningless coloured debris they find. They can imbibe enough alcohol to keep them drunk into next week. They can sing lullabies for all I care. As long as they leave _me_ out of it. I do not appreciate Blake's arrogant assumption that I need to be forcibly taught to have fun. Or that I don't know _how_ to have any because I don't enjoy something that meets his approved definition of 'having fun.' I did not have any 'fun' in there, Cally. I was manipulated into doing something I do not find enjoyable, against my will. I was ridiculed for being a Scrooge and a Grinch and a heartless machine because I am not like anyone else. My entertainments are quieter and more cerebral in nature. That is who I am. If having someone who is different interferes with other people's festivities, then don't invite me. We will both be much happier."

"It wasn't like that, Avon."

Avon asked cynically, "Wasn't it? Perhaps not from your perspective. You weren't forced to be there. It wasn't you that Blake tried to make feel guilty for not participating like everyone else."

"Blake means well. He doesn't understand the full implications of what he does sometimes."

The tone of cynicism in Avon's voice was heavy. "A valid justification for doing anything."

"I'm sorry, Avon."

Avon noticed that her hand was still on his arm. "Aren't we all? Now if you don't mind. I have something to do which no one would find enjoyable, except me."

Cally let go of his arm but reached out and placed the flat of her hand against his chest to stop him from ending this encounter. She could feel the heat of his body as she knew that he could feel the warmth radiating from the palm of her hand. It was a much more intimate gesture. "Do you think I might find this activity enjoyable?"

Avon hesitated. He remembered how well they had worked together on the _Ortega_. It was something that she seemed to enjoy as much as he had. "Perhaps. In my research into the data archives on the ship, I came across some old Earth games. There was one that was of particular interest to me."

Cally was surprised. "What was it?"

"It was a game of mysteries in the style of an old Earth author named Arthur Conan Doyle. The main protagonist in his novels was a private detective who was brilliant in observation and deductive reasoning."

Hearing this, Cally realized that she shouldn't have been surprised. Avon was right. He wasn't like anyone else. To judge that he was wrong or that he was inhuman just because he found enjoyment in other things was being unfair to him. She wondered if that had been happening all of his life and why he preferred to isolate himself from others. "I would enjoy that too. Would you mind some company?"

"As long as you don't require me to wear silly hats or sing songs."

Cally smiled. "As long as you don't mind if _I _might feel the need to."

They retired to where Avon had set up the terminal that played the mystery game. It was a very enjoyable evening for both of them away from the others. There were no silly hats or songs or even mistletoe. Though that didn't mean that there wasn't an activity associated with mistletoe involved.

Afterwards, Cally reflected that Blake had been the Grinch that had nearly stolen the fun out of what had been an enjoyable evening for Avon. She was certain that on the flight deck, Blake and the others most likely felt the same way about Avon.

In the end, they all had an enjoyable night, each in their own way. That was really what was most important in any celebration. That was the season that Blake and the others _were_ attempting to celebrate. Peace and goodwill towards all; including all of those who had different ideas of what was fun.


End file.
